Once again, it’s been a mega-crazy last couple of weeks filled with summer, swimming, family, friends and… another wedding.
When Felix and I met in Australia, it was over a beer at the Lass O’Gowrie Hotel, which lies on the wrong side of the tracks – literally – in Newcastle, Australia.
After some confusion as to the source of his beautiful, golden locks (I was convinced at first he was some sort of arrogant Australian surfie dude) one of my friends persuaded me to have a chat with him with the extremely subtle line:
“Hey Lily! You should talk to Felix! He’s Swedish!”
It worked, and we talked until the Lass closed (really late, for those unfamiliar with it).
Over the next week or so, we became very close despite his impending travels up North and the fact that he lived in Sweden.
When he came back to good old Newy after a month-long trip to the madhouse that is Byron Bay, we joked about getting married a little bit.
Then we just decided “hey let’s do it and move to Sweden…” which, looking back, was a completely insane thing to decide approximately four months after meeting someone, but we did it.
The first wedding came around so quickly that we barely had time to organize it (and when I say “we”, I mostly mean “my parents” because, let’s face it, I’m terrible at planning).
Felix’s family couldn’t come because it was such late notice and Australia is really far away from Sweden, but it was a glorious night nonetheless. And it meant we got to double-dip into the wedding pot and have a second one, here in Sweden.
The hungover morning after our Aussie shindig was bittersweet. Bitter because of the hangover and sweet for every other reason.
Felix said something to me along the lines of “I’m really glad we’re having another one because that was so fun!”
It’s somewhat amusing that it was Sweden, rather than Australia, that gave us the sun and warm weather in the end.
From Friday to Sunday we experienced what was literally the best weather all year: warm enough for me to swim, comfortably, for more than ten minutes straight.
(The photos in this post were all taken by Sylvia Ray, AKA my wonderful mother. More to come from Oliver, who did the professional pics as a lovely gift, but they’re in the editing desk right now.)
My family (including, amazingly, three cousins, both brothers and Mum and Dad) made it over for the celebrations while the other relatives gathered in Newcastle and waited up until midnight to tune in on Skype together.
The speeches were hilarious and mostly heart-warming, the food (provided by Felix’s mum) was delectable, the flowers were beautiful, the sun shone, and we were given a sailboat.
An actual sailboat as a wedding present from Felix’s dad.
With Felix working full time, we’re going to have to make a fairly big effort to get out there on the weekends, but what a thing to have to look forward to!
There were too many gifts and favours to possibly blog about (and listing them would make me look like I’m boasting, anyway) but, rest assured, it was endless.
Calling the weekend anything less than magical would be unfair and incorrect, and the only problem I have with that is the desperate feeling that I will never be able to thank everyone enough for their part in it.
Felix became quite ill on the evening after the wedding, and I followed closely behind.
We spent a glorious almost-four-days in bed watching the Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and eating dry pasta, buying one another “surprise” flowers and generally being pleasantly sooky.
Tonight we’re off to Copenhagen where we will meet up with Oliver and have a jolly couple of days sniffling about a new city, a new country, and with new excitement for the next chapter of our lives as…
Double married! I have a sneaking suspicion it will feel like normal married felt and that is just ace!